Man's Best Friends
by Inkblooded Witch
Summary: Monty doesn't consider himself a needy sort of cat. He and his human have an understanding of how things work, and Monty was under the impression that part of this understanding included a 'No Dogs' rule. So he's not best pleased when his human finds a mate that has one of the beasts. Mostly pet POV, USUK on the side. Experimental slice-of-life style, be nice! :)


**Random plot bunny I stumbled across over Thanksgiving. Took a few days to wrap it up and polish it off, but here it is. Might do more pet POV's in the future, but this is the first one I finished. I'm something of an animal lover, despite a persistent cat allergy, but I still love 'em! Thought it would be fun to fiddle with.**

 **It's not the most exiting tale in my repertoire, I'll admit, but I was going for a slice-of-life simplistic story. Let me know what you think!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Monty cracked an eye as a human trudged passed the living room, lifting his head from his position on the couch. He yawned, stretching himself out, listening as they moved about. It was early yet, but his human liked to get a start on the day. The morning routine consisted of him putting a kettle on for tea, popping something in the toaster oven to heat, and filling Monty's dishes. One with water, one with food.

The cat's ears pricked forward, however, when the refrigerator door opened after the kettle was put on. Then whistling as a pan was plunked down on the stove. His human was never this cheerful in the morning. What's more, his human was one of those who lacked the ability to whistle at all.

Fur bristling, Monty hopped down from the couch, stalking wearily into the kitchen. When he peeked in, though, he relaxed. Ah, he'd forgotten. His human had brought in his latest potential mate last night. Monty was honestly quite glad his human didn't search for mates much, as it usually ended with him sad for some time and Monty left to comfort him. But this new human had lasted the longest, if he was right. A full season, spring had turned to fall, and fall was starting to become winter. Halfway through the summer this human had started staying over, and Monty's human would spend nights away.

Monty liked his human, Arthur he was called. Arthur was a creature of habit, and willing to let Monty come to him rather than chasing the cat down, save for baths and vet visits. Monty kept to himself, occasionally demanding attention as needed. He had been with Arthur for years, having been given as a gift as a kitten back in England. Monty remembered well, and without much fondness, the trip as Arthur lugged him across the pond. It wasn't a trip he wanted to make again anytime soon, thank you very much, but it was worth it to stay with Arthur.

As a general rule, the Scottish fold was rather picky in who he liked. The latest potential mate was one of the few who had garnered his genuine affection, even if he did reek of dog. This one, Alfred if Monty remembered right, was a dog person. A fault to be sure, but one worth enduring. Alfred made his human smile more, laugh more, relax more. Anyone who made Arthur happy earned Monty's acceptance, dog person or no. Though it helped that this particular dog person also liked cats. He might not have one himself, but he treated Monty properly most of the time. The human petted him when petting was requested, put extra food in his bowl, and best of all, slipped him meat scraps when he cooked. Since Monty's human was infamously horrible at the task, Alfred did most of the cooking when he was around, which meant more scraps for the cat.

Yawning lazily, Monty wandered farther into the kitchen as Alfred worked on breakfast. He sat out of the way, tail twitching as he watched intently. Alfred didn't notice him at first, tossing things into the black pan that hissed and sizzled, filling the air with a delightful scent of cooking meat. There were other things too, foods humans called eggs and toast, but Monty didn't care for those.

The cat waited until he saw the meat being transferred to plates, then meowed loudly, announcing his presence. Alfred glanced around the floor, and grinned. "Hey, buddy. Don't worry, I didn't forget about you."

Obediently, the human picked up a strip of bacon, offering it to the cat. Monty stepped forward to accept it, retreating to his bowls to eat it. Alfred filled up his bowls too, but Monty ignored him. This potential mate made very good bacon. He hoped Arthur decided to keep him.

Once he'd finished the bacon, Monty got up and went to twine around Alfred's ankles, showing his gratitude and hoping for an extra pet. The human finished pouring hot liquids into two mugs, then bent to scoop up Monty. The cat meowed a little, as this was more than he'd asked for, but then purred as Alfred located the right spot behind his ears. Mmm, he smelled of a fresh mating again, in addition to breakfast, but Monty had gotten used to that.

To be honest he'd been quite worried the first time. Arthur had never actually kept a potential mate overnight before, or if he did such things it wasn't here. The door had been cracked, and Monty had been woken from his pre-bedtime nap by peculiar sounds. He honestly wasn't sure if they were of pain or pleasure, so he'd gone to investigate. When he'd thrust his head in through the door, he'd found the coverings the humans wore scattered all about the floor. Why had they taken off the coverings? Arthur in particular was very insistent on not only wearing them at all times, but that they were in neat order. Now they were thrown every which way with no regard for wrinkles or cat fur. What was going on?

Worried even more now, Monty moved closer to the bed, where the two humans were. He hesitated, then in a light leap landed himself up on the bed. He blinked, a little baffled. Had his human been in heat and he had not noticed? Monty honestly wasn't sure if his human was in need of aid, and for a moment he just stared as he tried to decide. This new human was on top of him, supposedly pinning him down for mating, but his human was clinging to Alfred, moaning and gasping what sounded like positive words. How he could be enjoying to any degree Monty didn't know, not if the new human was already inside him and moving like that.

Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, Monty stalked up to them, meowing in protest. Arthur gasped, then groaned. "Sod off you dumb cat. Ah!"

Monty tried to get between them, only to be pushed away to the edge of the bed. Alfred seemed content to ignore him, but Arthur braced both hands on his chest, pushing him back. "Get rid of him or he won't leave us be," he groaned.

Alfred had given him one last kiss, one that made Arthur mewl like a young kitten, before pulling away. The next thing Monty knew, he was being hoisted into the air and plopped down outside the door, which was promptly shut behind him. Deciding Arthur wouldn't have sent him away if he wasn't enjoying himself, he returned to the couch.

These days, Monty ignored the mating noises because they seemed to happen so often, and not always in the bedroom. Another reason he approved of Alfred- frequent mating also seemed to do wonders for Arthur's mood. If they weren't both the same gender Monty would have expected human kittens by now.

Alfred returned the cat to the floor, dusted his hands off, and moved the mugs to the tray he had prepared. Monty trotted ahead of him, brushing past the door of the bedroom and hopping up onto the bed. He minced over to Arthur, who was still asleep. He was mostly under the covers still, eyes closed, head on a pillow, one arm extended into the now empty half of the bed. Monty worked his head under this arm, purring to wake him up before Alfred burst into the room.

Green eyes were flickering open when the new human did just that. "'Morning, Artie!"

Arthur made a muffled noise, idly petting Monty as he propped himself up on one elbow. "What's all this?"

"Breakfast," said Alfred, plunking down the tray.

Though still bleary eyed, Arthur managed a faint smile. "You really don't have to do this every morning, love."

"I wanna," said Alfred, plopping down on the bed and kissing his cheek.

"'Want to'," Arthur corrected, dragging himself upright and rubbing his eyes. He was in the middle of a yawn when Alfred pressed the mug of tea into his hands, shooing Monty away.

Monty allowed himself to be shooed, taking up a post at the foot of the bed, tail twitching, watching. It took a few minutes, but Alfred noticed him.

"Go on, you've already had your bacon you greedy cat."

Arthur shot him a look. "How many times have I told you not to feed him this stuff? It's unhealthy."

"It's meat, Artie. Cats are carnivores."

Monty meowed his agreement. Alfred took a little training, but he was a smart human overall. That said, he was always more likely to give scraps if Arthur wasn't around. Deciding he'd had all the bacon he was going to get, Monty left the bed, returning to the kitchen.

The day as a whole was rather routine, which Monty liked. He had moved to the armchair nearest the front door for his mid-afternoon nap to await Arthur's return, but was quite surprised when he came through the door in an overly happy mood. Arthur was never like this after work. Grumpy, tired, surly, yes, but happy? Euphoric? Never.

Worried, Monty dropped to the floor and started twining around his legs, meowing worriedly. To his surprise, Arthur scooped him up, spinning him around. Monty meowed in protest, and the spinning stopped, but Arthur was still hugging him tightly. Monty was not a hugging sort of cat, except on rare special occasions.

"Look, poppet. What do you think?" Arthur moved him to a one armed hold so he could extend the other hand outward for inspection.

Monty looked. There was nothing different about the hand, except for a bit of metal around one finger. What was so special about that?

Whatever it was, it made Arthur happy. He wasn't the sort of person to get giddy, but he was the Arthur equivalent for the rest of the day. It was a little disconcerting. He even gave Monty tuna for dinner. Tuna was reserved for special occasions, but the cat was hardly going to complain. He just sat back and let his human have his happiness.

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

It was a few months before Monty figured out the full meaning of that little piece of metal. He heard Arthur on the phone more than usual, putting together some sort of event. He kept having to argue with his mother, using words like 'small ceremony' and 'intimate gathering' over and over again. Eventually he stuck his head into the bedroom one morning to find Arthur standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie with jittery fingers. Monty went to rub up against his legs to calm him, but paused a few feet away. His human didn't like it when he got his fur on the suits, and this was definitely a suit, all black and white with no color at all.

He settled for a concerned meow. His human looked down at him, cracking a wide, nervous smile. "What do you think? Good enough for my own wedding?"

Wedding, wedding, he knew that word. It took a minute, but it clicked. It was the ceremony humans had after they decided to stay with one mate. His human was having a wedding? Was that why he'd been so happy? Well, as long as it was to that Alfred human, Monty wasn't going to complain. So long as that dog was gone when Alfred moved in.

Monty patiently waited, enduring a week of care from the human from the apartment across the hall while his human went off on what he called a honeymoon. He waited, but seven days came and went, and Arthur didn't reappear. It was _nine_ whole days before he came back, and by then Monty was cross with him, dropping down to meow in irritation when his human finally returned.

His new mate was with him, which Monty had expected. What he hadn't expected was for his annoyance to go mostly ignored, in favor of bringing in a peculiar number of boxes. Monty retreated to the top of the armchair, tail twitching as he watched. What were they doing? Were they leaving? Why hadn't he been informed of all this?

At least Monty didn't consider himself in danger of abandonment, he was sure of that much. If Arthur had dragged him across an entire ocean, he wasn't going to leave him now. But since when did taking a mate mean moving homes? The apartment was big enough for the two of them and Monty, so what was the problem?

It took a whole day, but they got most of Arthur's things into boxes. Monty wasn't sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't for Arthur to get out his crate. The crate was only for vet visits, and even though it was the completely wrong time of day, Monty wasn't taking any chances. He bolted for the bed, only to yowl as Alfred dove for him. The cat narrowly missed getting grabbed by the quick human, darting down the short hall. He was mere feet from the bed when hands closed around him, hoisting him into the air.

Claws out, ears back, Monty growled at Alfred as the human marched back into the living room. Arthur was never this fast. Arthur also knew he didn't like being carried in such an undignified manner; the human's hands hooked under his forelegs, clamping down on either side of his chest while the rest of his body dangled. He was _not_ happy about this.

"You weren't kidding. Almost lost him."

"Yes, yes, now put him in the carrier," said Arthur, holding the door open. "He doesn't look best pleased with you at the moment, love."

"Eh he'll forgive me once I start feeding him bacon," Alfred said simply, setting Monty down in front of the carrier.

Monty went ridged, ready to bolt the moment Alfred let go. Honestly, did the human think he'd just walk in?

The theory was quickly denied as he was shoved through the door, which was jammed shut the moment his tail was clear. He turned around, peering through the bars. Alfred crouched down in front of him, sticking a finger through the grate.

"Come on, it's not that bad is it?"

Monty batted at the finger in response. He kept his claws sheathed, but Alfred quickly jerked his finer back. When the human protested "Hey!" Monty merely growled at him again. He was not happy and until he was provided with a _lot_ of bacon, he wasn't going to be in a forgiving mood. Honestly, this wasn't at all tradition! Arthur was never even able to come close to catching him. Monty was used to this entire process taking at least half an hour, with a lot more coaxing and treats to get him out from under the bed so Arthur could get him. If he was going to a place as horrid as the vet, he was going to be properly bribed.

He was still growling when Arthur carried him out of the apartment, walking with Alfred down the hall to the elevator. They were talking amiably, but Monty ignored them. He laid down the in the carrier, tail twitching, peering intently through the grate door as they rode down to ground level. It was the one good thing about the carrier, it meant Monty got to get out and look around without worrying about Arthur chasing him down. He'd slipped out once when he was a half grown kitten, and had sent his human into a panic. Amusing, but not worth it.

They walked through the bright lobby and out the side door to the parking lot. Monty didn't relax when he was put in the narrow backseat area of a vehicle that was most definitely not Arthur's. His human drove a sensible black car, what he'd heard other humans call a four door. This was the larger, louder version that was referred to as a pick up. It looked as though they'd filled the back part with the boxes they'd packed, which was both comforting and worrying. Monty was glad to know for sure he'd be going wherever they were, but he had no idea where this place was. He still didn't know why they needed to go at all.

It took a little while, long enough for Monty to doze off before they finally stopped. He perked up when the engine turned off, lifting his head. When Arthur opened the door, Monty peered around him and found it was very close to night. The sun was almost completely set, the last light fading quickly. More importantly, they were not in the city anymore. They were in a place of houses, ones with yards and driveways and little houses for cars. This particular one looked nice enough, with a porch and chairs and a swing for sitting. Better still, two big trees that looked as though they would be fun to climb. The place had two whole floors, it looked like, and a nice yard

As Arthur carried him towards the front door, Monty sniffed intently. The fur raised up on his back as he realized two things at once. One, this was Alfred's home. It was a similar scent to the one he carried whenever he first arrived at their apartment. Two, and much more importantly, they hadn't gotten rid of the dog.

Alfred walked ahead of them, bounding up the two steps of the porch to unlock the door for them. Monty was tensed, peering through the grate as Arthur brought him inside. Why had they kept the dog? Why had Arthur allowed that?

The front door shut behind them, and Arthur set down the carrier. He opened the door, stepping back. Alfred put an arm around his waist, kissing his cheek. "Relax, he'll be fine."

"I have told you how he is with dogs," Arthur warned him, glancing around.

Cautiously, Monty stuck his head out. He sniffed, tensed, peering around for the creature. He hoped it wouldn't be one of those big ones. What if he shared the sentiment towards cats that most cats had towards dogs? Monty was no push over, but he also knew better than to risk his hide needlessly.

He had just put a careful paw outside the carrier when the rapid beat of paws on rugs reached his ears. He had just enough time to yank his paw back before the dog burst into the front room, tongue lolling, tail wagging.

Monty jerked his head back, eyes widening, but held his ground as the dog came to a stop in front of the carrier, sniffing intently.

 _'Hi! Are you the cat my human was telling me about? What's your name? What kind of cat are you? You're not a mean Siamese, are you? Why are your ears flat like that? My name's Liberty, but everyone mostly calls me Libby. Except for my human when he's angry with me. Can we be friends? My human could only have one pet, so it's just been me. Sometimes we go to the dog park, but it's not the same. Will you be my friend?'_

Monty was vaguely aware of Alfred laughing above them. "Dude, look at his face! That's freakin' hilarious!"

Arthur smacked his mate in the chest, hissing at him to shut up.

By the time Libby finally stopped and waited for an answer, Monty had deduced that she was the dog breed known as a Golden Retriever. She had golden fur and big brown eyes staring intently at him. As unnerving and improper as all this was, he decided it could be worse.

Resigned to his fate, Monty informed her crisply, _'I am not by any means a Siamese, thank you. My ears are flat because I'm a Scottish fold, hence the name. My name is Monty, and I see no reason why we should be friends. Simply living in the same house does not mean that we are obligated to-_

 _'But I wanna be friends! Please? Pretty please with Milk Bones and bacon on top?'_

Monty growled a little. _'I'll have you know that I have been stuffed into this carrier, dragged from my home, and deposited here. I do not have the patience to deal with you right now. Leave me be, or humans or not, I will claw your eyes out.'_

Libby plopped herself down, cocked her head, and pricked her ears. _'Why would you do that? I'm not hurting you or growling at you. I'm being nice.'_

 _'Nice and annoying are not the same thing. Go away.'_

 _'No. This is my house, your human is moving in with my human. I won't go away.'_

"Okay, looks like he's not going anywhere. Come on, Libby, time to unload."

Instantly the dog forgot about him, jumping up to bound for the door. _'Unload! Good, I need to tinkle. That stupid little Chihuahua probably had his walk already, I need to fix the mailbox! Yay, outside!'_

Monty's eyes widened, and he peeked around the carrier. To his astonishment, Alfred opened the door without even bothering to restrain Libby, who darted outside in a heartbeat. He started to follow suit, but Arthur quickly followed them, closing the door sharply. Monty just stared at it, amazed. Were they really so careless? He'd expected the usual pound method or locating a new owner, not simply letting the dog run away. Oh but what should he care? Libby was gone, that was the end of that.

The cat had a few minutes of contentment before the door opened, and the humans started bringing in boxes. Once the last of them were inside, Alfred went to the still open door, which Monty had obediently avoided. The cat expected him to simply shut it, but he started when Alfred whistled sharply.

 _'Coming! Coming! Yay, inside! I'm hot. You filled up my water bowl, right?'_

 _'What are you doing?'_ blurted Monty as Libby bounded back inside.

Libby cocked her head at him. _'Going to get water. Do you want some too? I guess they haven't set up your bowls yet. You can have some of mine, I don't mind.'_

 _'No, why are you back here? You were out, they weren't watching you. You could have left.'_

 _'Why would I do that?'_

 _'You could have stayed away for as long as you wanted, done whatever you wanted. Why did you come back?'_

Libby sighed, trotting through the house to the kitchen. Reluctantly, Monty followed. Once in the kitchen, she dipped her head, lapping up water sloppily. When she raised her head again, licking the dripping water from her lips, she asked simply, _'Why would I want to leave?'_

 _'Don't most dogs?'_

 _'I've heard the same about cats.'_

 _'You didn't have to come when he called you.'_

 _'Maybe. But he gets mad when I don't. I like being a good girl. He pets me and gives me treats and says nice things to me. And whenever he fixes breakfast, he gives me bacon. I love my human, and my human loves me.'_

Monty frowned _. 'You are talking to me like I am another dog. Why?'_

 _'Why not?'_

 _'Because I'm a cat!'_ protested Monty, exasperated.

 _'Yeah, but you're not like the mean cat across the street. I like you.'_

 _'Why?'_

 _'Just 'cause. Come on, I wanna see what my human's mate brought!'_

With that Libby trotted passed him, going to where they were moving the boxes into different rooms. Monty decided it was best to ignore the eccentric dog, and set about exploring the house. It was large compared to the apartment, which he admitted was quite nice. The stench of dog was everywhere, but hopefully he'd be able to balance it out soon enough. Upstairs, he found the main bedroom the humans used. He also found his human's belongings, the ones that meant he'd be staying there. It was the same room that obviously belonged to his mate. The suitcase he'd packed for the honeymoon was here too, as were several boxes.

By the time he made his way back down the stairs, Monty found his bowls had been set out next to Libby's. He'd found her bed in his explorations, a large square thing in the laundry room. Her toys were scattered around the house, as was her fur. A perpetual reminder of his housemate. The only good thing was that the dog herself was easy to avoid. She was always within sight range of Alfred, it seemed, so if he avoided one he could avoid the other.

This worked out quite well, until dinner. Monty hovered, watching, unwilling to forfeit scraps for the sake of his dog distaste. Libby sat patiently out of the way, watching Alfred intently as he cooked. Monty's human was going through papers at the counter, large eyebrows furrowed in a frown. Both looked tired, but Libby's human was focused on his work. He added things to what had originally been chicken, but Monty didn't pay much attention. All he cared about was that the human retained his previous habits, and it didn't all go to the dog.

His hopes started to slide as the meal was transferred to plates, and the human brought them to the table. Libby didn't seem at all bothered, sliding to a laying down position, eyes still on the humans. Monty scowled, pacing. He should have known this would happen! Now that his human had been mated, his good graces were no longer needed.

 _'Be patient.'_

Monty paused in his pacing to scowl at the dog. _'What?'_

 _'Just wait. He always gives me something, and I'm sure he'll give you some too. You just have to wait is all.'_

The cat was still unconvinced, but wait he did. Eyes narrowed, tail twitching. Eventually the humans finished their meal, leaving the table. Monty's human started on the dishes, but Libby's seemed to hover by the stove. Even as the cat started to perk up, Alfred marched over to their bowls, hands cupped. Libby scrambled to her feet, but Monty got there right as Alfred straightened. There was more in the dog's bowl, but then her bowl was bigger.

Deciding it was probably as much to do with size, not favoritism, Monty set about eating the still warm meat that had been placed in his bowl. Libby gobbled hers down in a matter of seconds, and started hovering around him. Monty was taking more time, chewing each bite before swallowing.

 _'Don't even think about it,'_ he informed her crisply.

Libby whined. _'But you're taking so long! Can't I have some?'_

 _'You started out with more. It's hardly my fault you're a pig. Now leave me alone so I can enjoy it.'_

Dogs didn't pout as humans did, but this one managed the air quite effectively. Monty ignored her, finishing the treat before starting on his regular food. Once he was finished, he settled down for a wash. Ritual completed, he then trotted into the living room, where the human's had also retreated. He hopped lightly up onto the couch, settling himself down.

Libby, sprawled out under the TV, lifted her head. _'We're not supposed to get on the furniture.'_

 _'You, perhaps. I am a different matter.'_

"Uh, Artie?"

"Yes?"

"Does it seem fair, that we let him up but not Libby?"

"He knows better than to tear it up, and he's too small to cause damage otherwise. I don't see why not."

"...okay..."

Monty settled down for a post-dinner nap. Well, that was one victory at least. Perhaps it wouldn't be completely intolerable living alongside a dog.

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

To say he enjoyed his current state would be a bit much. Monty had been quite content in his old home with his old routine. But this new one was suitable enough. It had been a few months since they had moved in with his human's new mate, and Monty had had plenty of time to adapt. It had been almost a full year since Arthur had first brought Alfred home, and summer was developing rapidly.

Monty didn't consider himself a friend of the dog. He preferred terms like 'acquaintance' and 'house mate'. Libby was quite happy to pronounce them friends, but he was not. He was a cat, one with pride.

That said, there were advantages to knowing a dog. If he was so inclined Monty could steal her bed, and for whatever reason Libby was unwilling to physically remove him. Between the two of them there was always at least one full water bowl, there was finally someone to clean those hard to reach places, and even though the meat scraps now had to be split two ways it was compensated with more treats. The only thing thus far Monty had gladly coordinated with her with, though, was the vet visits. Neither liked them, and Libby had to be all but dragged out the door. If one caught wind of a pending visit for the other, a warning was obligatory. Monty was able to stall for a full hour when Libby gave him an advanced warning, and in return he stole Alfred's keys when it was her turn. It took nearly two hours before they found them, much to his satisfaction.

Alright, fine, so she wasn't completely intolerable. She even gave a fine bath, for a dog. Monty found himself getting used to having her around, annoying perkiness and all.

He wasn't sure how long they lived in mutual neutrality before it happened. He'd been worried because the humans were discussing adoption, yes, but this was much worse. It wasn't just an annoyance, it was a physical danger.

Monty's eyes opened one night as he lay on the couch, dozing between his nightly house prowling. He lifted his head, tail twitching. This was odd, to be sure. He'd never heard that sound in this house before.

Curious, he hopped down, stalking towards the front door. He froze, though, eyes widening as he saw a shadow outside the front door. Wood was cracking, metal clinking as they forced their way in. Monty darted away, retreating to the back of the house. Halfway to the kitchen, he nearly ran into Libby, who usually slept through the entire night.

 _'What's going on?'_ she asked, tail already wagging. _'Are more human's here?'_

 _'Yes, but not the good kind,'_ said Monty grimly.

The wagging slowed to a stop. _'What do you mean?'_

 _'Sometimes humans break into other human's houses to steal things. Sometimes they hurt the humans inside too. Just stay quiet. Maybe they'll just take things and leave.'_

Libby lowered her head, all traces of her previous good mood gone. _'They're going to hurt my human?'_

 _'Maybe not, just-_

 _'Maybe isn't good enough,'_ she said, trotting to the front of the house.

 _'Wait! They don't know we're here yet!'_ protested Monty, chasing after her. _'You can't see as well as I can!'_

It was nearly pitch dark, and while he knew she wouldn't be as blind as a human, Monty knew it wouldn't matter much. What worried him, though, was that Libby had ignored him completely. He might be a cat, but he didn't like the idea of her getting hurt.

Monty darted through the living room, bounding around the corner, unnoticed by the human as they slowly shut the door. He had just enough time to leap up onto the nearby shelves before Libby came in the other way, head down. A growl rumbled in her throat, a noise he wasn't used to hearing. The human swung around, and Monty glimpsed the metal stick in his hand. It was an odd thing, curved on either end. He wasn't sure what it was, but it had been strong enough to pry its way through thick wood and several metal locks.

 _'Don't! He's-_

Libby, barking madly, lunged for the human. He screamed, stumbling backwards as she latched onto the arm holding the metal stick. Monty was tensed, frozen in place as he stared. Was she mad?

The human cursed, and kicked hard. Libby yelped, dropping his arm. She was still growling, but Monty saw the human raise the metal stick. At that point, he stopped thinking.

Yowling a battle cry of his own, Monty lunged off the shelf, colliding with the human's head. He screamed again as Monty dug all four sets of claws into the fabric covering his head, biting at anything he could. He was quite sure he found a nose after a few tries, judging by the increase in screams. He had barely a moment to feel proud of this before a hand closed around his neck, tearing him away.

Monty flew through the air, smacking into the wall and dropping to the floor. He lay still, dazed. Even as he forced his eyes open, head throbbing, lights started to come on. The human in black ran, a frantically barking Libby giving chase. Monty saw his human's mate come flying down the stairs, weapon in hand. He followed man and dog, shouting for Arthur to call the police.

The cat watched blearily as his human appeared, talking angrily into the phone. Arthur froze, though, when he saw Monty. His eyes widened, and he hurried to his side. Monty knew he was talking, but he decided to just ignore the words. The petting was nice. He was feeling better, well enough to sit up and shake his head.

Monty licked his lips, tasting blood. He purred, reassuring his human he was okay, pushing his head into Arthur's hand. He was sore, and Monty guessed he would be for a little while, but he couldn't help feeling proud of himself. He had drawn the enemy's blood, after all, and hopefully left lasting wounds. It wasn't normal cat behavior to do such things, as they were normally above it all, but it also wasn't in their nature to let the dogs get all the glory if it could be helped.

He was sitting up and giving himself a wash when the humans in black uniforms came. His ears pricked up, listening carefully. He could care less about human affairs, but he wanted to know if his work had gone to waste.

"Caught them two blocks away," one of the uniformed humans was saying. "Your friend had him pinned down. He's on his way to the station right now."

"Good. And I hope that bite gets infected," Arthur quipped.

One of the officers eyed the cat, and Monty stared back, tail twitching. "It's unusual to see a cat attack and intruder. I mean, a golden retriever is understandable, if she felt threatened. But a cat?"

Monty stood up, going to wind around his human's legs, purring. Humph, man's best friend indeed. If they were so inclined, cats could be the same. But only if the human was worth it. His was, thank you very much.

Arthur bent down, scooping him up. "He's a special cat. Besides, they seem to get along quite well. Perhaps he didn't take to the fellow hurting Libby."

Monty continued to purr, feeling quite smug. _There, you see? He knows I'm special. Don't give all the credit to that sodding dog._

As the humans continued to talk, he peered around them into the front yard, where the uniformed human's cars with flashing lights atop their roofs sat. Alfred was talking to another uniformed human, still barefoot and clad only in the garment called 'boxers'. Libby was sitting at his feet, panting, tail thumping as he rubbed her ears with one hand. She looked alright, at least, and very proud of herself.

Monty sighed, about to jump down, but decided to put it off when Arthur started to scratch his own ears. Mmm, he could get back to his interrupted nap later. Perhaps there was something to this displayed loyalty business after all. And, reluctantly, eyes drifting shut as his purr rumbled louder, Monty admitted that maybe, just maybe, living with a dog could be a bit more than tolerable.

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